Untitled for now
by Molly4
Summary: My first HI fic, based around "The Longest Day." I started writing this long before I'd read any other HI fics so please don't think I copied the idea. Takes place before, during and after the episode. It's an AU, quite long, and very depressing. Read and
1. Default Chapter

A/N: I've been working on this story for a long time so please be gentle. It has many installments and may take awhile to complete so bear with me. I know this plot has probably been used before but I started it before I even read the others so please don't think I'm copying somebody else's idea. It's revolved around the episode "The Longest Day." It takes place before, during, and after, and is an AU. I think you can all figure out that in this story Randy really does have cancer. And if anybody can think up a good title, please help me! It'll be mostly Tim and Randy's POV's, though there will be chapters from Brad, Mark, Jill, Al, Wilson, and even Heidi.   
  
Spoilers: "The Longest Day."  
  
Rating: PG-13   
  
Chapter 1: pre-"Longest Day." Maybe two or three weeks before the episode. First 2 chapters from Tim's P.O.V.  
  
  
Untitled  
By: Molly  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 1: Tim's P.O.V.  
  
I came in the house through the garage door as usual, smiling with immense pride at my hotrod. I whistled a random tune as I hung up my jacket and tossed my car keys on the counter.   
  
I stopped. Randy was lying on the couch, sleeping like a baby with the TV blaring some God awful MTV-generation music. How he could sleep through that kind of a racket was beyond me. I glanced at my watch and my eyebrows went up. How he could be sound asleep at four in the afternoon was way beyond me.  
  
I walked over and turned off the TV. I wondered if maybe Randy was sick. He never slept in the daytime. Heck it was hard for him to sleep at night. Often he'd wander upstairs at two in the morning looking for some cookies and milk. I'm usually up at the same time, watching old episodes of "Tool Time," and enjoying some alone time. Randy will usually wander over and we have a nice chat or something. He seemed to enjoy it once he realized I wouldn't get mad at him for being up. Lately though, he'd go to sleep early and practically impossible to wake up in the morning.   
  
I shrugged. Probably a lot of stress. It's not easy being the smart kid. There's a lot of pressure on him to get good grades. Maybe it was starting to get to him. Well either way, I had to wake him up. I didn't want Randy up until five in the morning because he slept the afternoon away. I had too many nights like that in college and believe me, it's not a good thing. I sat down on the edge of the couch and lifted Randy's head onto my lap. He was always a hard one to wake up.   
  
"Randy," I called directly into his hair. I gently dusted his face with my finger. He swatted my hand away. I chuckled a little bit. "Randy," I called a little louder. He still didn't wake up. "Randal William Taylor! What have you done!" I screeched. Instantly he was awake.  
  
"Whaa...I didn't do anything Mom," Randy said, looking as guilty as sin. He looked around, blinking rapidly, his eyes still a little dead. I laughed. He slugged me and sat up.   
  
"Hey Randy. A little sleepy there pal?" I cocked an eyebrow.  
  
Randy rubbed the sleep from his eyes and groaned a little bit. "I wasn't sleeping," he mumbled. "I was just resting my eyes." He yawned.  
  
"Oh please," I snorted. "Do you always scream Mary's name when you rest your eyes?"  
  
Randy turned bright red, obviously unaware I knew about his latest girlfriend. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch. I socked him lightly on the shoulder. "I was uh...screaming...."  
  
"Ha, kidding," I said lightly giving Randy a gentle noogie. "And don't worry. Mom knows nothing about Mary." I grinned. "But I know everything." He rolled his eyes and looked embarrassed.   
  
"But really, you're sleeping in the middle of the day?" I paused and put a hand on his forehead. "Are you sick?" I frowned. He felt a little warm. Randy batted my hand away.  
  
"I'm fine," he mumbled. "Just a little tired."  
  
"And grouchy," I supplied. He glared at me.  
  
"What time is it?" Randy asked. He smoothed his hair with his hands, but stopped in the middle to cover another yawn.  
  
"A little after four. How much homework do you have tonight?" I asked. He sighed dramatically.  
  
"Mountains." He covered his face in his hands and sighed again. I mimicked his ever move. Randy caught me and punched my shoulder. "Quit that."  
  
"How was school. Look up any girl's skirts?" I laughed a little at my own joke.  
  
"It was okay. Fell asleep in history class." Randy rubbed the back of his neck.  
  
"Huh, the Puritans will do that to you. Get in trouble?" I watched as he got up slowly, stretched and walked to the kitchen.  
  
"Nah," Randy called, grabbing a bottle of milk from the fridge and some cookies from the cabinet. He took a swig of milk straight from the bottle. I smiled. I knew I'd raised him right. "Mr. Hendriks said he didn't wake me up because I usually wasn't a behavior problem. If I fall asleep again though, he says I'll get a detention."  
  
"Well you have to plan your strategy son. You can't fall asleep in the same class two days in a row. Tomorrow try English Lit. That never failed to put me to sleep." I looked over my shoulder and threw him my charming father smile.  
  
"Which might explain why you've never read anything longer than an auto magazine." Randy smiled his charming wise ass smile.  
  
I chuckled. I've always treasured my relationships with all my sons but there's something really special about Randy and me. We can insult each other for hours and never get offended. The little guy makes me laugh.  
  
"I read you a lot of books when you were a kid," I argued, setting Randy up for another zinger.  
  
"Dad, Chevy owner's manuals don't count as books. I was the only kid in the kindergarten who knew what to do in case of engine trouble." Randy nibbled on a cookie.  
  
"And look where you are today," I pointed out.   
  
Randy just shook his head. "Look, I have a lot of homework to do. I'm just gonna take the cookies downstairs and get to work."  
  
"All right. Don't work too hard," I called after him.  
  
"Oh, and Parent's Night is tomorrow," Randy shouted back.  
  
"Okay. Which teachers hate you this year?" I asked, putting my feet on the coffee table.  
  
"My Latin teacher. She thinks I'm a wise ass."   
  
"What? You aren't?"  
  
"I get it from my father." I heard the basement door slam.  
  
I smiled. I love that little guy.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
End of chapter 1. Please review 


	2. Chapter 2: Tim's POV

A/N: Thanks for the positive feedback! As usual standard disclaimers apply. This chapter will be revolving around probably one of Randy's worst days, sickness wise.  
  
Chapter 2: Tim's P.O.V.  
  
I wiped a little chip grease from the corner or my mouth on my sleeve. I glanced at my watch. Jill would be home soon, meaning I might have to make some sort of attempt to clean up.  
  
I stood up, scratched like a man should scratch, and put my dirty dishes into the sink and left my potato chip bag on the coffee table. I could always blame it on Mark. He always looks like he's done something wrong. Well, now that the cleaning's done.......I sighed. Not much to do. My eyes darted over to the garage. Well, now. The hotrod could always use some extra attention.  
  
Two steps from the garage with my hand on the doorknob I heard the front door open and close in succession. I winced. Crap.   
  
"I'm home," Jill called.  
  
I walked over to the counter where Jill met me, smiling cheerfully. I kissed her briefly on the lips.   
  
"Guess who I ran into today?" Jill asked looking excited.  
  
I groaned. When she asks me that kind of a question she's usually run into somebody I hate, who has a husband, which means I have to go to dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Pain in the Ass.  
  
"Don't groan Tim. You like this person." Jill laughed a little bit.  
  
"You ran into Tony, my car guy?" My heart soars with hope. Ah, Tony. He'd make a lovely dinner guest.  
  
Jill smacked my chest lightly and smiled. "No.....Helen Manchester."   
  
Where had I heard the name before?  
  
"From college. She was in my dorm?"  
  
Hmmmm....Helen Manchester. Suddenly a face registered with the name. Oh God no.  
  
"Helen Manchester, huh?" I scratched my chin. "She still have the nails on a chalkboard voice and sweating problem?"  
  
"Her voice is not that bad and she never had a sweating problem!" Jill frowned.  
  
"Then how come you never let her borrow any of your clothes? Hm. That's right. You were afraid that if you did you'd have swimming pools under your arms." Ha ha, I'd like to see her weasel her way out of that one.  
  
Jill was silent for a minute. She frowned. "Well....we weren't the same size. Helen was much bigger than I was." I raised an eyebrow and she smacked me again. "Anyway that doesn't matter. We're having dinner with her and her husband tomorrow night at her house."  
  
Nononononononononono!  
  
"Sorry Jill, can't. I have that thing....that uh....that thing....yeah." Damn. I wish I could lie with a straight face like Brad can.  
  
"Oh." Jill said patronizingly. "I must have forgotten this 'thing.' Refresh my memory Tim." She crossed her arms and gave me the Stare of Doom.  
  
"The uh, uh..." My mind raced. I needed something. Anything. I spotted Randy grabbing a soda out of the fridge. "Parent's Night," I blurted out.   
Ha ha, you're better than Einstein Tim.  
  
"That's tomorrow?" Jill asked suspiciously.   
  
I nodded vigorously.   
  
"Randy? Is Parent's Night tomorrow?" Jill peered around the corner.  
  
"Personally, I'm hurt that you don't believe me." I crossed my arms. Jill snickered.  
  
"Yeah, Mom. One of you guys has to go. Brad's night is Wednesday." Randy slammed the fridge closed and popped open a soda. He yawned once before taking a small sip.   
  
Jill was beaten.  
  
"Well, I guess I can go over to the Manchester's on my own tomorrow. I can't fit it in any other night." Jill frowned grumpily. "I wanted you to meet her husband Jeff."  
  
"I still can't get over the fact that somebody married that woman. He must carry around an emergency Speed Stick wherever he goes." I grinned.  
  
"Stop!" Jill let a small smile slip out and I knew she wasn't too upset. "Look, just make sure to visit Randy's algebra teacher. Randy raves about the guy."  
  
I looked over at Randy who was sitting on the counter, drinking his soda. He nodded and smiled.  
  
"Check, great math teacher." I'd never really enjoyed Parent's Night but anything had to be better than dinner with one of Jill's old college buddies.  
  
"And see Randy's Latin teacher. She says he has an attitude problem." Jill raised an eyebrow at Randy.  
  
Randy's big blue eyes widened and he looked completely innocent. Made me want to rush right up there and hug him. He looked at least five years younger.  
  
"I don't know what she's talking about Mom. I do all my work, and study quietly when I have free time." Randy looked at Jill pitifully.  
  
Jill laughed and went upstairs calling for Brad. Randy smiled. He knew the orphan boy look of his worked effectively in one of two ways. Either Jill felt sympathy for him and made him a nice plate of cookies, or she was amused and forgot the whole situation all together. Either way, Randy is a full blooded Taylor man.  
  
"Okay. Anything else I should know?" I asked, helping Randy turn the conversation in anther direction.  
  
"Yeah. Don't stand too close to my biology teacher. He spits when he talks." Randy snickered and downed the last of his soda.  
  
"Right. Donald Duck teaches bio." I made a mental note. Randy laughed a little bit.  
  
"And make sure and tell my English teacher you're married. She's divorced and desperate. She started hitting on Janitor George last week."   
  
I arched an eyebrow. "The silent bald guy with no teeth?"   
  
Randy nodded. "That's the one." He yawned and stretched a little bit.  
  
I frowned. "You sick or something, Randy?" I felt a little bad for being so over protective but Randy was usually bright and full of life.  
  
He shook his head as he yawned again. "Just a little beat. Worked hard in gym class. We had football."  
  
I grunted loudly in approval. "You should play for the school," I suggested. I could just see it now. Randy running down the field, ball safely nestled in his arms, throwing off a few defenders, faking left, going right, oh, touchdown!   
  
"I can't," Randy said flatly, breaking me out of my trance. "I played last year and my asthma got in the way. Remember?"  
  
I grunted in remembrance. That was a pretty crappy season, ending with Randy being carted off the field to the emergency room with an asthma attack. It was one of the scariest moments of my life.   
  
"Anyway, Coach said the same thing." Randy frowned. "I would like to play...." He trailed off.  
  
I walked over and put a hand on his shoulder sympathetically. He liked football almost as much as Brad liked soccer. It's hard to give up something you love for a health reason. And Randy had always been the one to have to do that. He'd been able to play pee-wee football for awhile, where nobody really got tackled hard but as he moved up it became increasingly difficult for him to play the sport he loved and breathe at the same time. I'd always felt bad for Randy in that respect. He had to hate being so sick all the time.  
  
Randy looked up into my eyes and saw the concern in them or something, because he shook his head a little bit. "It's okay. I've got other stuff to do anyway. "I have a Youth Alliance for the Earth meeting Friday." He smiled. "I get to go on a camping trip this year."  
  
"Hey, that'll be cool! I can let you use my canteen with the radio and my Swiss army knife, and my flashlight/radio/black and white TV/compass." I smiled brightly.   
  
"The whole purpose of the thing is to rough it. I might as well hook up a Nintendo in the woods and play Super Mario Brothers all night." Randy rolled his eyes.  
  
I considered this for a second. "You know, that's not a bad idea. I'm sure I could arrange it. I'd just need a really long extension cord and some duct tape."  
  
Randy grinned. "I better get back to my homework," He said with a small sigh.   
  
"Sure. Yeah. But hey, thanks for getting me out of dinner with one of your mom's boring friends."   
  
Randy shrugged. "No problem. It's good for me too. You don't put as much pressure on me to get straight A's as Mom does." He paused. "Maybe because you were such a rotten student yourself." He patted my shoulder and smiled.  
  
"When I showed up for class at all," I replied, grabbing a TV guide off the counter and flipping through it.  
  
"All right. See ya Dad." Randy grabbed another soda and went down the finish his homework.   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
Later in the day.....Dinner time  
  
"Hey Dad, can you pass me the butter?" Mark asked, holding up a roll.  
  
It was dinner time and we were enjoying our usual inedible cuisine of steak and mashed potatoes, except for Randy who ate a frozen vegetarian dinner. I'm still unable to comprehend how a teenage boy can sit there eating limp broccoli while everybody else is eating a hearty man's meal of steak and potatoes.  
  
I passed the butter to Mark who put a huge chunk right in the center of his potatoes and watched it melt. Brad elbowed him in the side.  
  
"Gimme the butter," Brad demanded.  
  
"Brad!"   
  
Brad sighed. "Fine. Gimme the butter please."   
  
"Now that's what I want to hear," I told him.  
  
Brad smiled sweetly at Jill as he took the butter from Mark. Jill just laughed and shook her head. I glanced over at Randy. His eyelids were falling fast. I nudged him a little.  
  
"Hey Randy, stay awake here. You're about to get a face full of potatoes." I looked over at Jill who shrugged and frowned.  
  
"Huh?" Randy's eyes snapped open and he jerked awake. "Oh, geez. Sorry 'bout that." He shoveled a forkful of mashed potatoes into his mouth and gave a small smile.  
  
Jill looked concerned.  
  
"Randy, sweetheart, are you all right? You look a little pale and rundown." Jill bit her lip and glanced over at me to see if I knew anything. I shrugged a little bit.  
  
"I'm fine," Randy mumbled halfheartedly. He rested his elbow on the table and his hand on the side of his face. He pushed his food around his plate with his fork. He took a bite of his broccoli and made a face.  
  
Jill stared at him for a few seconds, but quickly went back to her food. There was nothing she could do if he didn't admit he was sick.  
  
"Well, all you boys have a doctor's appointment in three weeks. Randy, I'll have to tell the doctor how tired you've been." Jill took a bite of steak and looked at him carefully to see if she could get a reaction.  
  
Randy opened his mouth to argue but thought better of it. He simply went back to his food.  
  
"The doctor's?" Brad asked, raising his eyebrows like he always does when he's nervous.  
  
"Yes. I told you about it yesterday. Mark, can you pass me the salt?" Jill sprinkled some salt on her steak.  
  
"Are they gonna make me pee in a cup?" Brad asked with disgust in his voice.  
  
"Probably. Yeah. Hey, it'll be fun," I offered. "Bring me back a sucker, huh?"  
  
"I need a plan," Brad mumbled. I raised an eyebrow at him. He shook his head. "Never mind."  
  
"Jimmy Peters threw up in the water fountain today," Mark said, ending the awkward silence.  
  
"Awww, Mark. Aren't you a little old for stories like that at the dinner table." Jill wrinkled her nose.  
  
"An entire Froot Roll-up came out intact," Mark added, with a little smile.  
  
"Ewwww." Jill pushed her plate away. "I'm not hungry anymore."  
  
I had to laugh a little bit. Sometimes Mark likes to say things like that to get attention. Have to admire him for it.   
  
Randy shoved his plate towards the middle of the table too. There was still a good amount of food left on it but both Jill and I didn't say anything about it. He would just get defensive anyway.  
  
"I lost my appetite too," Randy muttered in a forced disgust. "I'm gonna go to my room and surf the internet for awhile."  
  
"Okay, sweetheart," Jill called after him, not even bothering to tell him to put his dirty dishes in the sink. She sighed.  
  
Five minutes later, while Jill was doing the dishes, I walked down to Randy's room. Something had to be bothering him. He usually doesn't open up to Jill too much but he talks to me a lot. Maybe I could figure it out.  
  
The light was off. Randy was in bed, sound asleep. I tucked his blanket under his chin and kissed him gently on the forehead. I sure hoped whatever was bothering him would clear up soon.  
  
I walked quickly upstairs.  
  
"Tim, were you just down there talking to Randy?" Jill asked, drying her hands on a dish towel.  
  
"Yeah," I answered, walking over to the hall closet and pretending to look for something.  
  
"And?"  
  
"And nothing. He stayed up late cramming for a test last night and he pushed himself to hard in gym class. He'll be fine. Just let him sleep." I was satisfied with the fact that I was only half lying.   
  
"Okay. But can you talk to Brad now? He stole my yogurt from the fridge and said something about practicing his aim."   
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
End of chapter 2. 


	3. Chapter 3: Randy

Chapter 3. Randy's POV. He's distracted from school wondering if something's wrong with him. Thanks for all the great reviews! You guys rock! Standard disclaimers apply......  
  
Chapter 3: Randy  
  
I slid into my chair on the back of the room with a smile. Second period. Math, my favorite subject. It's not that I love math or anything, but my teacher is the greatest.   
  
Breakfast had been a little tense at home. Mom and Dad were still uptight about my health, Dad shooting off rapid fire questions and Mom feeling my forehead ever ten seconds. I put on a good show though. I was cheery, polite, cracking more jokes than usual. I'm pretty sure Mom's convinced I'm okay. Dad's a little harder to fool, no matter how dumb he is. The truth is I don't want them to really know how tired I've been lately. Sometimes just getting out of bed seems impossible and by last period I'm practically a zombie. Still I don't want my folks to worry about me more than they already do. They tend to worry about me a little more than they worry about Brad and Mark because of all my health problems. It can be really annoying.  
  
Mr. Peters, my math teacher walked in, his long arms swinging by his side. Something about him had appealed to me since the first day of school. He never seemed to take anything too seriously. He was always smiling and cracking a joke, jokes that were always funny, even if they were at somebody else's expense. Nobody was safe when Mr. Peters went on a roll. I was the butt of many of his jokes because he liked me. At least that's what he said. He treats all his students with an extreme level of respect, like we're adults or something. Most importantly, he doesn't judge us.  
  
"Morning class," Mr. Peters greeted everyone, sliding into his desk chair. "How was the homework?" Most of the class groaned and somebody threw their shoe. Mr. Peters laughed and threw it back. "Invest in some Odor Eaters," he told the kid. Everyone laughed.  
  
The math homework had been pretty difficult. I looked down at my own work and frowned. I was in the accelerated math class and my homework looked like second grade work. I hadn't been able to find a pencil the night before so I'd used a pen, and boy was that obvious. Half-finished equations were scribbled out, numbers scrawled illegibly even to me, who wrote the damn thing! I sighed. Well, at least I didn't have to hand it in. Mr. Peters makes sure we've done our homework, gives us the right answers, and moves on to the lesson.  
  
I tried to recall doing my homework last night. I hadn't remembered making such a mess of it. But then, I couldn't remember much about last night. I remember Dad waking me up on the couch, something at the dinner table, somebody puking or something, and then going down to my room. I couldn't remember anything in between. It was as if it never happened, though my messed up paper sure proved that something did happen last night. I wondered if all my homework looked like that.  
  
"Randy," Mr. Peters called.   
  
"Uh, yeah, I have my homework," I mumbled. Some people laughed. I didn't stop to wonder why.  
  
"Okay," he muttered, shaking his head.  
  
"Dude, he called your name like ten times." A kid next to me, Jake, was the speaker. "And he was taking attendance, not asking about the homework."  
  
"Oh," I mumbled, slightly embarrassed. So that's why they were laughing.  
  
The whole day dragged on like that. In English class I didn't even have my homework. I thought I'd remembered doing it so I told Ms. Jones I'd left it in my locker. Boy was she steamed when I came back without any work. That got me a detention.  
  
But still, there was some good to the day. I got to walk Mary to her fifth period class and we made a date for the movies Saturday night. It was nice to just be able to walk with her, holding her hand, hoping mine wasn't too sweaty, and enjoying her company. I didn't even mind too much when Mr. Peters walked by and said, "Ah, young love," while holding his hands over his heart and sighing like Mom when she watches "Love Story." I turned red and Mr. Peters laughed like a hyena, but I didn't mind so much. That's what a girl like Mary can do to a guy.  
  
Mary is, and I say this with mucho respect for her intellectually, a total babe. She's short, shorter than me, and really athletic looking. She has gorgeous curly hair that's strawberry blonde and wild. And she has the sweetest smile a girl is allowed to have. But, I'm into her personality too. (Really!) Mary's really into sports and even likes old time WWF wrestling like I do. She watches the Three Stooges and The Simpsons and loves Dave Barry even more than I do. She's smart too, really smart. I've only been dating her for a week, but already I'm wild about her.  
  
It was a struggle to stay awake through fifth and sixth periods, biology and English lit. But I knew seventh period would be worst; gym.  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Gym class is usually a lot of fun. Due to my schedule, I have gym two days in a row; Tuesday and Wednesday. I'm in class with all the other kids taking all honors classes. There are maybe two people in the class who can throw a football. Those two people are Mary and me. The other kids just kind of run back and forth and pray the teacher isn't watching them specifically. It makes for a great ego boost.  
  
But I was in no mood for running. I would've preferred sitting quietly for forty minutes. Anything but soccer. I suppose I'm a decent soccer player. I did pick up a thing or two from Brad. Still, soccer's never been my favorite sport and it's hell on my asthma, with the constant back and forth, back and forth, action. Needless to say, I lagged a little.  
  
Shortly after the game started I was having trouble breathing and I felt a jabbing pain in my stomach. Still, I didn't want to stop. I put on my jets, charged forward right at the guy with the ball and.....he blew right past me. A guy who has trouble tying his shoes just blew by me, while still handling the ball. Will wonders never cease?  
  
"Taylor! Get over here!" Coach Sullivan yelled.  
  
It wasn't uncommon for Coach to yell for somebody in the middle of the game so the game went right on as I jogged to the sideline, sucking in wind.  
  
Coach's gruff demeanor quickly changed. He looked concerned.  
  
"You okay, son?" He asked, looking me up and down.  
  
"Sure. I'm fine. My asthma, I guess."   
  
"Well, why don't you sit out the rest of the game. You don't look so hot and we've only been playing for five minutes." Coach paused and waved his hand around, gesturing at some guy, Derek, as he went to kick the ball, missed, and went flying. "Against these guys. This should be cake for you Taylor. Sit down." He paused again. "Do you need to go to the nurse?"  
  
I shook my head. "I don't need to go out either. I can handle this." I grabbed my water bottle and took a swig of it. "Just need to keep hydrated." I grinned the little boy grin that always won Mom and Dad over.   
  
Coach didn't go for it.  
  
"Sit down Taylor. And don't worry about your GPA. Since this is for a health reason, your grade won't drop." Coach smiled grimly and went back to the game.  
  
I sighed and sat down on one of the metal benches. I hated when Coach did this to me. He was real cautious about my asthma. Probably didn't want some kind of lawsuit or anything. Either way, I couldn't help being annoyed at being on the bench for awhile.   
  
I whistled a Beach Boys tune, cursing Dad for getting it stuck in my head. Coach looked over and laughed.  
  
"A Beach Boys fan?" He asked, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrows. "Aren't you a little young for them?"  
  
"My dad," I explained. "Car guy."  
  
"The Tool Man," Coach said, nodding. He laughed. "I love that guy. He cracks me up. And whats-his-face.....Al. The guy with the flannel. What's with him?"  
  
"The world may never know," I replied with a straight face. Coach arched an eyebrow at me.  
  
I shrugged and had to smile. Another "Tool Time" fan.  
  
  
END OF CHAPTER 3  
Chapter 4: Tim's POV. Parent's Night 


	4. Chapter 4: Tim's POV

Sorry for the delay. Computer trouble!  
  
Chapter 4: Tim  
  
I walked into Randy's Latin class, the first stop of the night. I looked down at the schedule Randy had given me. Seven different teachers I had to met all in the space of two or three hours. I think the only thing worse may very well have been dinner at Helen Manchester's house.  
  
On the desk were name tags. I screamed to myself. You can tell which teachers will be the most difficult to deal with.   
  
'Hello, my name is:' the top of the name tag read. Well that was easy enough.  
  
I wrote with a blue pen that was lying on the desk 'Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor.' I admired my handiwork. Beautiful handwriting Tim. Hmmm...another blank.  
  
'and I am.....(state your profession here)'  
  
Oh, boy. I'm not sure I want to meet this lady. Well, we've already established that I'm The Tool Man....grunt grunt grunt....so why not have a little fun. I always was the cut up in school so why not?  
  
'Hello, my name is Tim "The Tool Man" Taylor and I am.......'  
  
'Hooked on phonics,' I wrote and I chuckled a little bit. I slapped the sucker on my shirt pocket and grinned. I wasn't unanimously voted Class Clown in high school for nothing.  
  
I walked around a little bit. Randy had already told me how things would work. I would go to all his classes in order. The teacher would briefly tell all the parents what they were learning in class, what was expected of them, blah, blah, blah. Then she'd call each parent up to her desk and have a brief conference with them while the other parents walked around, or in my case, performed various deeds of mayhem. All in all, it would be a boring night.   
  
I found an empty desk in the very back of the room, my kingdom all through high school. I used to own the back of the room. I'd hang out with all the other kids like me who just didn't give a damn about school. It was great. I stretched my feet out a little and checked for any interesting graffiti on the desks. Well one thing certainly hadn't changed. A giant heart with the initials R.T. plus M.S. inside them. I wonder if that stood for Randy Taylor and Mary Sullivan. I smiled and wondered which one of them would've carved it into the desk. Maybe Randy. The lines were clean and smooth, made by somebody with tool dexterity and too many brains to care what was going on in class.   
  
The teacher, Mrs. Lantham stood in front of the class and started babbling about something. Most of the parents sat listening attentively, sometimes smiling and nodding. I was about ready to nod off to sleep. The other back row parents shared my feelings. Some guy with stringy hair was drawing a monster truck on his forearm. My kind of guy.   
  
Pretty soon I'm called up to her desk for the private conference. The stringy haired guy whispered a 'good luck' as I got out of my seat. Perhaps he was familiar with this teacher.   
  
I sat down at the seat in front of Mrs. Lantham's desk. I knew what to expect. Those teachers who didn't rant and rave about Randy's intelligence usually said he didn't take anything seriously, he made jokes at inappropriate times, and he distracted others. Nothing big.   
  
"Ah, Mr. Taylor." Mrs. Lantham read my name tag and frowned. "I can see where Randy gets his colorful sense of humor."  
  
I almost popped a vein trying not to laugh.   
  
"Yes," I said in a fake intellectual voice. "Well, I've encourage my son to express himself by way of humor." I waved my hands around a little for good measure. "I feel it gives him the chance to express himself, to be who he is, a wonderful individual and one heck of a kid." I smiled.  
  
Mrs. Lantham didn't.  
  
"I don't find his sarcasm funny. I am a teacher. I have to teach twenty-four other students other than your son. I realize Randy is a gifted individual. His work in my class is above average. However, his antics distract other classmates from their work. Furthermore, Randy seems to have trouble paying attention in class."  
  
"Huh?" I asked. "I'm sorry. I didn't catch that last part." I grinned sheepishly. I've always had trouble listening to teachers.  
  
Mrs. Lantham looked exasperated.   
  
"I have nothing more to say. Go ahead and look around."  
  
I smiled slyly. "It was nice meeting you Mrs. Lantham. Have a great day."  
  
I walked away before I could hear her response. I smiled at the stringy haired guy as I plopped back down in my seat.  
  
"I've still got my charm at least," I said with a grin.  
  
The stringy haired guy gave me the thumbs up sign. I smiled. Maybe the night wouldn't be so boring after all.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Math was the second place I had to go. Mr. Peters turned out to be a tall bearded guy who looked a little like Jesus. I instantly liked him. Though I took a seat in the back of the room again and was prepared to tune him out, he actually said some interesting things. Besides, my stringy haired pal was right beside me in case things ever turned boring, which it did, as soon as he called the first parent up to his desk.  
  
I looked around the room. An entire side wall was covered in pictures, song lyrics, pins, drawings, things like that. It was pretty cool. I saw a picture of Randy up there and smiled. I read some of the lyrics. Nirvana, Randy's favorite band was among some of the things posted. I was liking this Mr. Peters guy more and more.  
  
"Mr. Taylor?"  
  
My turn. I got up, prying my eyes from the wall and settled down in a desk right in front of Mr. Peters. The other parents stood in front of the wall, hypnotized by it's utter coolness.   
  
"Randy's a great kid," Mr. Peters said, smiling. "I have no complaints. He's bright, friendly, polite, funny, and he seems to want to learn. I have a lot of respect for him."  
  
I smiled. This would be an easy talk.  
  
"That's good to hear," I said with a light grin.  
  
"And it's nice to see he has a father who's very into literature." Mr. Peters grinned.  
  
Huh? Oh. I was still wearing my Hooked on Phonics name tag.  
  
"Well, you know what they say....Reading is fundamental."  
  
Mr. Peters chuckled. "Look, I have no problems with Randy. But, uh, lately he's been a little tired out. This may be none of my business but I don't know that he gets enough sleep at night. Maybe all his honors classes are stressing him out?"  
  
"Uh, yeah. My wife and I have noticed that. He's got a doctor's appointment and everything so...yeah...if there's anything...." I stopped, feeling like an idiot.  
  
Mr. Peters smiled. "Okay. Just wanted to tell you. Really none of my business." I smiled. He smiled. Now I knew why Randy would rave about the guy.  
  
That was it. I got up, sat in my seat until the bell rang again, then headed to his English class.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
I opened the door of the house, dropped my keys on the counter and shrugged off my coat. Jill wouldn't be home for a few hours and the house was quiet. I popped open a beer and flicked on ESPN.  
  
The rest of Parent's Night had run fairly smoothly, the only hitch coming when Randy's English teacher hit on me. That was a little creepy. Other than that, things were good. No real complaints, nothing. I was happy.  
  
The basement door opened and closed and Randy shuffled into the living room, grabbing a bag of cookies and pouring himself a glass of milk on the way. He was wearing a bathrobe and looking tired but I didn't comment. It was around nine thirty anyway.  
  
"Hey. How was Parent's Night?" Randy sat down on the couch beside me. I put my arm around his shoulders and grabbed a cookie from the bag.  
  
"Fine."  
  
Randy grunted and turned his attention to ESPN. We didn't talk much, but we didn't need to. It was a comfortable silence. Sometimes it's nice to just sit down next to somebody you love and not have to say anything. You just have to be there. I like that.   
  
I pulled Randy in a little and kissed the side of his head. I wasn't usually so demonstrative- I usually stick to manly hugs- but for some reason it seemed like he needed more at the moment. He looked wiped.   
  
I smiled, basking in the comfortable silence. We didn't have to say anything. It was nice.   
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
End of Chapter 4. 


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